


Without a Doubt

by AtThisPoint



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Nightmares, Post-War, bed sharing...kinda, could be read as generic, could be read as slash, descriptions are hard, graphic depiction of fluff, tags are too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 00:59:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16186775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtThisPoint/pseuds/AtThisPoint
Summary: Obi-Wan and the perils- ahem, the journey to communication with Force ghosts, and one odd desert creature who just won't leave him alone..and then multiplies





	Without a Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> None of these characters belong to me, I just like to play with them  
> \- - indicates Obi-Wan's thoughts  
> Italics indicate Qui-Gon in the physical world
> 
> Not beta'd; all mistakes are my own

When you’re going through life’s valleys,

And you think there’s no way out,

You’re not the first to feel this way.

There’s hope, without a doubt.

-Dave Roberts

 

     Obi-Wan Kenobi sat down in the hovel he had found sometime after delivering the child to the Lars homestead. A week had passed on the journey to Tatooine; a few days past then for the travel to the Lars, and then searching for some out of the way, middle of nowhere passably livable place.

     Almost two weeks since everything was lost.

     Since he had lost-

     -No- he told himself firmly. -None of that. -

     Ruthlessly squashing that train of thought, Obi-Wan examined the area he had finished cleaning earlier that morning, before the heat had kicked in. He had made the mistake on his first day of forcing himself to work through the afternoon heat. Which, of course, led to a fast-struck bout of dehydration-driven heat stroke. The hovel was in pretty good shape, all things considered. As far as he could tell, the last time someone had lived in it was approximately fifty years ago, give or take a decade. There was rubble to be cleaned, and junk to get rid of. And the various equipment on this old water farm, well, let’s just say Obi-Wan had no real desire to find out how bad of shape everything was in. There were still some odds and ends in this corner that he wanted to go through before the day was out.

     But damn, if this heat didn’t stop any and all useful things that could be done.

     -Well- he considered, - Master at least would find it amusing that I have to exercise my control over internal temperature. - As a padawan, that lesson, while important for their missions, had been the bane of his existence, along with the ever persistent “focus on the here and now” that his master had tried to drill through his thick skull.

     …Master…

     The thought brought back that last conversation with Yoda on the Sundered Heart. It had been years since his Master’s untimely end, but now…now his heart fluttered at the thought of hearing, maybe eventually seeing his beloved Master again.

    -And of course it requires a deep communion with the Living Force- he snorted.

 

(flashback)

Tired, bruised, beaten and even more broken than before, Obi-Wan was amazed to hear Yoda’s proclamation that he was in contact with Qui-Gon through the veil.

                But as he listened to the wizened troll who happened to be his great-grandmaster, his heart fell. The lesson Yoda had for him was more mired in the Living Force than anything he had previously attempted, let alone succeeded, to do. So gifted was he in the Unifying Force that his Master had once despaired of ever teaching his prescient Padawan the expanse that was the Living Force. Now, that difficulty was coming back to mock him, dangling a wanted object in front of a being nearly incapable of reaching it.

                Yoda gave him an appraising look, one that Obi-Wan had seen many times before, and it made him give quite the inner wail. It was the type of look that usually meant that things were either about to get very complicated, or that he was about to reveal some great piece of wisdom that the people around him would scarcely understand until they themselves were old and gray. As such, Obi-Wan was surprised when the grandmaster of the order merely suggested they from a partner bond and meditate together for a time before going on their separate paths that led them away from the newly-rising Empire.            

                In forming the bond and meditating with the green being, he found himself on a deeper level of the Living Force, but could not fathom how much deeper he would have to delve to succeed in his task. The idea was daunting, and yet Obi-Wan knew that the promise of seeing Qui-Gon Jinn again before death would be a sweet enough temptation that he would return to it, no matter how difficult it became.

                Yoda warned him to continue along this path, to learn his lessons with as much alacrity as he had as an Initiate and then Padawan, with one last piece of parting wisdom he often gave to those Initiates who struggled with something or another:

                “Do or do not. There is not try.”

(end flashback)

 

Since that moment, Obi-Wan had forced himself to sit and meditate, trying to achieve that same level he had reached at Yoda’s guidance. As of yet, he had been distracted by a baby, the heat, and his own mind. He was finding that his attention span was worse than when he had been in the creche.

                -Let it go into the Force- he sighed, reminding himself of one of the many platitudes he has learned as a child and had reinforced throughout his entire life. -This shouldn’t be so hard. -

                Settling into a sitting meditation, he reached out once more to the Force, feeling its comforting embrace. He turned his thoughts to the lessons Yoda had bade him to go through, and tried once again to reach communion with the unfamiliar familiarity of the Living Force. He had bared witness to many of his Master’s meditation in the twelve years he spent by the man’s side. There had even been joined meditations in which he had been present to see, through Qui-Gon’s perceptions, the side of the Force which linked every living thing, creature, and being together as one whole. He knew the ideals and the embrace of it. Now was the time for him to learn to reach for it himself. And reach for it he did, soul stretched to the brink of his knowledge of the Living Force, but for all his reaching and pushing, it remained the same, as if stuck in a stasis field.

                Quickly tiring of the static, he tried instead to just let himself feel that bond linking him to the grandmaster, which was quietly thrumming; providing, he suspected idly, a way for two of the handful of remaining Jedi in the galaxy to feel connected to something as a comfort. He sent a gentle pulse down it, gratified if a little shocked when it was ever so faintly returned.

                Thinking of his great-grandmaster enabled him to focus once more on the Living Force, and he allowed himself to relax into whatever the Force wished to bring to his attention.

                It drew him to one of the few items he had risked saving from his rooms in the Temple before leaving. The stone his Master had gifted to him on his thirteenth name day had always been a prized possession; unique in its origin from the River of Light, Force sensitive, and a treasure from a day long since passed, one in which he was a new Padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, the Maverick of the Jedi Order who had sworn to never again take another apprentice. He smiled as he remembered the not-smile his Master had worn when Obi-Wan thanked him after realizing its sensitivity.

                _Force sensitive? I just thought it was a pretty rock._

                The ghostly whisper of memory floated up, a fleeting image of his Master with a partial sabacc face, a horrified Padawan staring up at the tall man.

                Smiling once more, Obi-Wan pulled the stone out of its place in his belt without breaking meditation. He turned it over and over in his palm, feeling the comforting smoothness and the receptivity to his aura. Focusing on it, he used the Force to levitate the stone, seeing it light and flash with his mind’s eye in response. Delving deeper into the Force, Obi-Wan was swamped with another memory.

 

(start flashback)

Obi-Wan woke with a sharp gasp, sweat-soaked and heart racing. His surroundings didn’t help settle him. Rather, it enforced the reoccurring nightmare of his Master’s final battle. Everything around him screamed of the absence of the dead Jedi, for he knew the story of almost every piece in the room, and each held the unique presence of the man.

                Instead of getting reassigned to new quarters, he had merely taken over his Master’s room, leaving his old to Anakin. At the time, he hadn’t cared to visit the quarter master, and indeed it seemed rather silly to move rooms when they could simply use the ones he had shared for the past twelve years. Now, he questioned the sensibility of such a thing.

                Everything in the room was a painful and vivid cycle of feeling the lingering presence of his Master and a stabbing reminder that his Master was no more.

                Not able to stay in the room a moment longer, Obi-Wan fled toward the kitchen, preparing to make tea and start the day exceptionally early. His flight was stalled by a sniffling sound from his room-no. His old room. Hesitating momentarily, Obi-Wan moved to the closed door and deliberated. -Should I knock? - he wondered. He was a new knight, and hadn’t had much opportunity in his busy Padawan years to volunteer at the creche. What did he know of proper decorum when taking care of a child?

                Another sniffle decided for him. “Anakin?” he called softly as he opened the door slowly, trying not to startle the child.

                A gasp and some shuffling answered him. “Master Obi-Wan, sir,” a small voice hazarded.

                Long years of living in that exact room lent him an easy passage to the sleeping couch, containing one small and now hiccupping boy. A boy that was curled up in a tight ball, shaking and looking as miserable as Obi-Wan felt.

                “Ani?” he prompted soothingly, running his hand lightly over golden tresses. “What’s wrong?”

                The boy shifted away slightly. “I didn’t mean to wake you I’m sorry,” he quietly and quickly whispered.

                “You’re no longer a slave, Ani,” Obi-Wan gently reminded him. “I want to help you, if you’ll allow it.” He smiled as puffy eyes peeked up at him. “Besides,” he whispered conspiratorially, “I wasn’t asleep, and I had planned to make some hot cocoa.”

                He observed with some relief as that seemed to intrigue his young apprentice. “I’ll bet that you’ve never had that before. Want to have some with me?”

                Sniffling and rubbing at his eyes, Anakin stood up, pulling his blanket behind him like a shroud, and followed Obi-Wan out into the common room.

                Studying his charge quickly as he guided him to the couch (the same old couch that had been ancient when he himself was an apprentice, Force the memories it held…), Obi-Wan realized part of the shivering was from the relative chill of Coruscant compared to the weather Anakin was surely used to. Grabbing his cloak from the chair he had tossed it on, Obi-Wan settled the fabric around the boy, along with the blanket, creating a cocoon of warmth for the desert boy. He pointedly avoided questioning what he was gripping so tightly in his small shaking hands, and instead made two cups of hot cocoa, watching as Anakin calmed somewhat and his breathing evened out with the cessation of the hiccups.

                Steaming mugs in hand, Obi-Wan sat next to his lightly quivering apprentice (he quailed at the thought of referring to him as Padawan), placing the mugs on the low table in front of the old and comfortable couch. He then turned to find his apprentice still had tears making their slow trek from eye to chin.

                “Anakin,” he called the boy’s attention to him with no trace of censure of reprimand in his voice. “Can you tell me what’s wrong now? Please?” That only caused the tears to form and fall faster and he could tell from the increase of breath that the hiccups were impending return as well.

                Shushing the child as comfortingly as he could and rubbing the boy’s back and hair alternatively, he pulled out his best negotiating persona, ready to work under any conditions to achieve the goal of the mission. This mission’s goal was possibly his easiest and simultaneously most terrifying mission he had ever faced.

                When the breathing had leveled out some, Obi-Wan reached forward and snagged his mug, sipping the warm substance with an appreciative sigh. If he nudged the other mug closer to the boy in the process to draw his attention back to it and the potential of a new taste and liquid, well, who was there that could recognize the redirect for what it was?

                -Qui-Gon- his mind helpfully supplied, accompanied by a painful twisting of his gut. He shoved it deep behind his shields, much as he had done to other such thought and anything else that tried to come up and break his tenuous grasp on composure.

                His plan worked, to his immense relief. Anakin reached forward curiously, taking the mug with some trepidation and a bit of unmasked wonder. He brought it to his face and sniffed the contents, and upon approval of the scent, took a sip of the novel beverage.

                Obi-Wan watched with slight amusement as Anakin gladly consumed the drink, but could tell it hadn’t fixed the problem. Trying to be as gentle as possible and live up to the expectation of his training, he said in a nonchalant voice, “So what do you have there, Ani?” Mentally wincing at the failure of subtly, he gestured to the boy’s other hand, hidden under blanket and cloak.

                Obviously hesitating some, the boy placed his drained mug carefully on the table, and slowly brought his hand forth, trembling. The tears had yet to stop. Obi-Wan looked in some shock at the object, the last he had expected to see. It was his rock. The one his Master had given him. The Force sensitive one. The one that still felt-

                -Felt like Master- Obi-Wan realized with a sinking heart. Of course. Of course it was that rock. In his own grief, had he really failed to consider that Anakin had lost someone as well?

                “ ‘M sorry, sir,” Anakin mumbled through rapidly flowing tears and increasing breath. “I jus- I was so sad and then I fel’ this and foun’ it and and I jus’ wanted to feel him an’ it helped but i’ also made me sadder and and and-” Anakin babbled, hiccups breaking his speech more and more as he progressed.

                “Hush, it’s alright Anakin. Shhh. I know. I miss him as well,” Obi-Wan hummed, reaching for the boy and pulling him to his own body. His heart clenched as he tried to soothe the boy, all the while feeling more of his heart break.

(end flashback)

 

Gasping, Obi-Wan felt as if he had been kicked and punched, then summarily shoved out of his communion with the Force. He knew he had tears streaming down his own face in remembrance of pain, both old and new.

 

                He had spent hours in meditation, the evening coming upon him, bringing with it the chill of desert worlds when night struck with a vengeance. He spent some more time cleaning and shifting, and finally gave up in favor of eating and then laying on the bed, head hitting the pillow as his internal clock informed him it was midnight.

 

                _-bi-Wan._

                Obi-Wan tossed in his fitful sleep.

                _Obi-Wan_ , the voice called his name a bit more forcefully.

                Twelve years as an apprentice to the owner of that voice ensured that it was ingrained in him to listen and obey. His eyes flew open, immediately jumping up, confused, and searching his hovel. Obi-Wan’s eyes sought out the speaker, mouth opening to reply his typical “Master”, even as all of his other senses told him he was alone.

                Alone.

                Except one thing. The rock, which he had left beside his lightsaber on the low table nearest the bed, called to him once more, trying to inform him of something that it assured him was quite important.

                Unable to resist, and feeling quite foolish, Obi-Wan picked up the stone, investigating it with his eyes first. Finding it unchanged in that respect, he called upon the Force, somewhat ashamed of the relief he felt when it responded after the earlier meditation’s ending. -What is it? What do you want me to know, old companion? -

                When he realized what it was that the rock from the River of Light was screaming at him to pay attention to, he nearly dropped it from shock. The many years since its gifting and later his knighting had caused the feeling of its first owner to fade to a dull hum. Now? Now the rock fairly sung with the endearing and addictive feel of his late Master.

                Blinking rapidly to expel the wetness from his traitorous eyes, Obi-Wan glanced around the small hut again.

                “Qui-Gon?” he asked softly. “Master?”

                In his hand, the rock seemed to sigh in great relief, as if saying “well finally.”

 

Three months came and went. He worked during the cooler hours of the day to fix the damage on the now-antique water farm equipment. When the heat prevented him from work, Obi-Wan meditated and continued along the path Yoda had assigned to him. Each day got a bit easier, and each day he felt a bit more close to the Living Force. Its expanse widened to his previously deaf senses, and still it was a great expanse before him, a yawning hole which sang of possibilities and promises.

                But it still denied him the level he needed to achieve.

                One of the only comforts he had was that it appeared that his increasing ease with the Living Force afforded him the ability to sense life easier, and it proved useful to help him tend the plants he grew in his basements in the hopes that he could grow vegetables on his own. Beyond that, he was comforted most by the fact that he and that damned rock seemed to be more in tune with each other, and over the months since that first shocking night, he could easier feel when the rock suddenly seemed more infused with his Master’s presence.

 

Six months to the day since he came to Tatooine, and it was finally what passed as the planet’s wet season.

                His eyes opened, the telltale signs of a downpour flooding his senses. Jumping out of bed, he quickly threw on some more clothes and went out into the rain, face turned up to catch the full brunt of the rainstorm. A rain storm. Here, on the driest place Obi-Wan had ever had the displeasure of being on for any period of time. It was almost a laughable idea, and yet it was also the most reasonable thing as well. A strange warmth filled him, and he laughed, realizing it was happiness, pure and simple, taken from something so simple as a rain storm in a desert.

                Obi-Wan’s mistake, of course, lay in his decision to go for a walk. As he slipped on a treacherous outcrop of rocks, Obi-Wan cursed himself for his foolishness and rotten luck, before blacking out as his head crashed into a boulder.

 

                _Padawan, I suggest you get up._

                Obi-Wan woke, immediately aware of the presence of…something. He was also aware, as he sat up slowly, that his head was throbbing and he likely had a concussion.

                A creature brayed in warning, and Obi-Wan turned unthreateningly toward the noise. He didn’t need to be attacked by one of the desert creatures on top of everything else. Anakin had told him plenty of horror stories about some of those creatures, and he didn’t fancy coming face to face with any. His eyes landed on an odd looking being, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Unless he was mistaken, the creature had suffered the same fate he had. It was projecting confusion, fear, and some protective anger, but foremost it was projecting pain.

                With careful motions, Obi-Wan approached the animal, which growled at him. (Absently, Obi-Wan wondered what the hell type of animal could both bray and growl.) “Easy,” he muttered, sending soothing calm to the injured creature. It settled, allowing him to come close and inspect it. The problem wasn’t hard to spot. The pathetic thing had managed to not only get rocks and rock shards stuck in an open injury, but it also appeared that it had been struck by someone trying to get rid of the animal.

                Brushing the rubble out softly, Obi-Wan laid his hands on the creature around the injuries, petting absently to soothe it. He focused, shoving aside his concussion and the fog within him to access the Force, as he had done many times throughout the war, sending healing tendrils into the wounds. Stepping away, he was surprised to see how healed it was. He had never been that good at healing. That was always easier for his Master, what with his strong and easy connection to the Living aspect of the Force. Though Qui-Gon had always protested that he was barely passable at healing, merely doing enough to get by until they could reach the real healers. (Obi-Wan had long suspected that that was more to avoid ever getting pulled into being a Healer, whether a temporary reassignment or not.)

                “Go on then,” he said to the animal, “go home.” He promptly followed his own advice, somewhat surprised to realize that he was stumbling along. Refusing to get caught out by anything other than the one that was also injured, Obi-Wan forced his body to obey, barely making it to his bunk before collapsing.

 

He was dreaming. He was sure that he was dreaming.

                Dreams were his hell. Had been for 13 years now.

                Because no matter what he did or tried, he always ended up here, watching himself hold his dying Master. No matter how many times he bore witness to this dreaded event, it still hurt.

                Then something changed. The air next to the observing Obi-Wan shifted, and he looked at the spot of convergence only to jump back. It was his Master. But no, that couldn’t be right, his Master was laying on the floor, cradled in his arms. Even as he stared, he saw Maul’s saberstaff go through the Jedi Master’s chest, that same dull expression of surprise and pain warring with the oh-so-familiar and concerned face.        

                “Obi-Wan.” From the shifting figure.

                “No,” he moaned as the saber went through the figure again and again. He placed his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as possible. It never worked. The sight of his Master being eviscerated was burned to his eyelids, never yielding, never letting him have a moment of piece in this hellscape.

                The world around him shivered. For a few moments, he refused to open his eyes, knowing exactly what he would find when he did. Finally, Obi-Wan couldn’t avoid it anymore, and found himself face to face with a pyre, which bore the prone frame of one Qui-Gon Jinn. As he watched, the pyre roared to life, seemingly of its own accord, red and orange flames licking up into the pitch-black night sky.

                He knew he alone was bearing witness to this. He always was when he had these dreams. Except…Except something was different this time. Before Obi-Wan could figure out what exactly had changed, a broad hand landed on his shoulder, bringing with it a gentleness normally absent from his dreams which always felt of invasive darkness that made one feel as if true goodness was a hoax.

                “Come away, Padawan,” a familiar voice asked of him.

                Obi-Wan closed his eyes, heart beat quickening and blocking his throat. “You’re not real,” he managed in a hoarse whisper.

                He could feel the mild amusement, mixed with concern and something he couldn’t quite place. “I assure you, Padawan, that I am as real as you are.”

                Obi-Wan considered this. The hand on his shoulder certainly felt real. Warm, even. He stretched out his senses. Dreams had a certain feel to them. Most of the time, they felt of sand slipping through closed fingers. The pyre definitely had that dream-sand feel. The room around them as well. As he turned his focus onto the figure still grasping his shoulder, he vaguely felt the room shift, and knew in some way that they now stood in his hovel on Tatooine. It still felt of dreams, but the one other figure…It didn’t feel of dreams, but neither did it feel of life. Instead, it merely felt as his Master had always felt.

                Gasping, he turned around, gazing up at the face he had never thought to see again but for in his memories until Yoda had told him of his talks with Qui-Gon in the veil.

                It was him. It really was. He looked the same as Obi-Wan remembered.

                “Master,” he whispered.             

                Qui-Gon smiled. “Padawan,” he muttered warmly, squeezing the shoulder held in his large hand.

                “How…” his voice broke, and he pulled away, sitting down hard on his bunk. “How are you here?”

                “I am here because you are here,” Qui-Gon said, echoing himself on Mortis. And kark, if that wasn’t a reminder that he did not need.

                “I…I don’t understand. How am I seeing you? I hadn’t thought that I had attained the knowledge I needed yet.”

                Qui-Gon leaned against the far wall, arms folding up into his robe. “I believe that you can see me here because you needed to. I have walked your path with you through those dreams before, yet this is the first time you were ever aware of me, let alone able to hear me. Always before something prevented you from recognizing my presence. If anything, this shows that you are taking to your lessons with the same determined skill as you always have.”

                Obi-Wan was warmed by the words and the underlying pride he could sense from his former Master. Then his words registered fully. “Wait, you- you’ve been in my dreams with me before?”

                Qui-Gon smiled softly, looking guilty, but also sad and frustrated. “I have always been with you, Obi-Wan. When I realized that you couldn’t hear me in life, I remained, hoping that you could, at least, feel me. Eventually, I was able to enter your dreams, sometimes alter them before they became nightmares. There were times, of course, that I tried to approach others, but it wasn’t until recently that someone finally could hear me.”

                Obi-Wan smiled. “I’ve missed you, Master.”

                “And I, you.”

                His smile faded as he felt himself waking. Qui-Gon noticed, and his expression turned disappointed. “I had hoped we would have more time.”

                “Will I be able to see you when I wake?” he asked, frightened by the prospect of losing his connection.

                Qui-Gon smiled at him, sending him a wave of reassurance in the Force. “I am not sure, Obi-Wan. But even if you cannot, I will be there.”

 

Obi-Wan jerked awake, and the first thing he knew was that his concussion was gone, and there was a lingering feel of his Master to the healing done there. He smiled, and checked his internal clock as he prepared for the day, pausing in surprise as he found that two days had passed.

                When he went outside, he found another surprise waiting for him. “What are you doing here?” he asked the strange creature he had helped, moving past it to gather the water his equipment had collected while he rested. It followed along behind him, snuffling the ground at times. It even tried to follow him back into his hovel, disappointed when it couldn’t fit its broad frame through the narrow door.

                “Now don’t tell me you plan to make this a daily occurrence,” Obi-Wan mumbled as he helped the poor thing get unstuck.

 

A few mornings later, Obi-Wan discovered the reason for the being’s overprotectiveness when he awoke after his first rainstorm on Tatooine.

                “Oh _kark_ no,” he grumbled, staring in sleep-dazed confusion at the scene before him. The creature had forced open his door in the middle of the night, and on top of that, given birth to little…things. And they were everywhere. (Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it certainly seemed so to his tired brain.) One came up to him as he watched and started gumming at his toes.

                “No, I am not your mother!” Obi-Wan told it, pulling his foot up and away. It was then he discovered that it could whine. (Seriously, he thought, what in Force’s name are these things?) “All of you, out!” He sighed as the creatureletts just stared at him expectantly.       

                Grumbling about pathetic creatures who couldn’t even tell the right species and how he was most certainly _not_ Qui-Gon “but Padawan, this creature is in need of our help” could-make-friends-with-a-bloody-gundark Jinn, he picked up the one at his feet, showing it to its mother. The others soon got the idea that that way lay food. However, he could convince neither mother nor children to go farther than a few meters away.

                -Maybe they’ll be gone when I get back, - he mused, and did a check on his equipment. When he got back, he found that they weren’t, of course. Ignoring them, Obi-Wan went inside and did damage control until it was too hot for him to continue.

 

Winter season on Hoth, Obi-Wan decided, had to be preferable to winter season on Tatooine. His first week of Tatooine winter had him just about climbing the walls in frustration. Days were still too warm for any sane humanoid to attempt to do anything of much consequence. In other seasons he had found himself able to go out at night, lay on his roof or even able to do some open-handed katas. He even meditated up there sometimes, finding his center a bit easier with the comforting embrace of the clear starry night sky. It could sometimes dip into a bit too-cool temperature, but nothing his robe couldn’t manage. And it was nice change from the ever-remaining heat of the day.

                Winter season, on the other hand, was a menace. The days, being too hot, kept him inside. The nights, however, saw him huddling in bed, unable to get out at all into the open air. Which left him…alone. The odd creatures had had the good sense to migrate as the weather had started to dip, though Obi-Wan got the feeling that they would return. The onslaught of this damnable season had him almost missing the odd company they provided him. Their absence left him alone with his mind and memories, with nothing to buffer or distract himself. Even meditation, he found, could only work so far.

                Rolling onto his side and pushing away any and all unwelcome thoughts, Obi-Wan tucked his blanket and robe up around his ears. -At least the space heater I found works- he thought dryly.

 

He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. Obi-Wan knew that for a fact, in the same level of confidence that he knew Tatooine had two suns and was damn hot for it. He could see his surroundings flickering around him, as if his brain had yet to decide of which from of torture to inflict upon him; perhaps replaying the Battle of Naboo, or watching his master’s pyre burn, or nearly drowning on Utapau as thousands of lives blinked out almost simultaneously, or Mustafar and Ana-Vader.

                But something was off. He could see his breath forming hazy clouds in front of him. Fuzzily, he thought it strange that he could suddenly see evidence of himself, when in most dreams he was just a phantom-like figure, doomed to observe but never affect.

                “-nobi!”

A muffled noise. Slowly, he turned around, trying to place it. He stumbled about, vaguely wondering why.

                “-bi-Wa-“ a little more forceful now, a little clearer.

                As he stumbled, the scene became a bit less hazy, solidifying into his Master’s pyre. He drew close, numb to the pain he usually was swamped by, drawn in by the warmth of the blaze.

                “PADAWAN!”

                “Mastah?” he forced out of numb lips, lisping through the immobility between brain and mouth. Cold. He was so blasted cold.

                “Padawan, wake up. Do you hear me? Wake up right this instance!”

                “Wha’s wron’?” he slurred, leaning against the lit pyre for support and heat.

                “-Wan, your…-ter is out,” his Master’s disembodied voice was fading in and out, and sluggishly Obi-Wan realized it was he who was rapidly losing focus and-well, can someone actually lose consciousness in a dream? - he mused. The fire was so warm and inviting, practically begging him to join his prone Master on it, burn with him in eternal flame where cold would never again be an issue. He barely realized he was starting to fall forward into the fire, drawn in by that comforting promise.

                “Padawan, up!” His Master’s tone offered no room for arguments.

 

Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open; painful, in his freezing hovel.

                -…freezing? -

                He forced his eyes to focus, and found the source of the prevalent frigidness of his normally cool home. The ancient heater he had found (really, he shouldn’t have trusted it, given the apparent age of everything else he had found in the damn place, but honestly, he had been desperate; no one told him that winter on this kriffing planet could actually reach freezing temperatures) had broken in the middle of the night. He shivered, trying in vain to find some warmth within his blanket and robe.

                _Oh thank the Force, Padawan, you’re awake._

                Obi-Wan damn near shot out of his lukewarm bed, and was only stopped by his common sense telling him that would make things worse. “Master,” he breathed, his breath fogging the air in front of his face.

                A pause which felt full of shock and his Master’s muted presence.

                _Yes, Obi-Wan, I am here. You can hear me?_

                His chuckle was near maniacal and rather wet sounding. “Yes.”

                _You had me worried for a minute there, Padawan. I thought…_

                Obi-Wan smiled apologetically, not knowing or caring if Qui-Gon could actually see it. “I’m alright, I think. Just blasted cold.”

                Another pause, this one contemplative, then he felt…something. A dip of his bed, not in actuality but within the Force. Then he was engulfed in a warm grasp. A familiar embrace from so many long ago missions where he and his Master had been forced to share a sleeping place, whether for warmth, lack of space, or simply chosen out of need for comfort, sometimes (often times, he had later realized) for not merely his own but also for his Master’s.

                He let out a soft, gasping sob. “Qui-Gon.”

                _Shh, Obi-Wan, I’m here. Try to get some rest. I will not leave._

                Even though he wanted to protest, to bask in the quasi-presence of his Master, his body was determined to have its way, lulled by the comfort he felt surrounded by, this persistent sense memory that told his body that safety is found here in this grasp. He fought it, not wishing to let go of this (quite possibly limited) period of awareness of his Qui-Gon. His sleep addled brain insisted that that statement was correct, even though the last vestiges of his consciousness told him that Qui-Gon had never truly been his, that that was just wishful thinking from a fool. Before he could stop it, before his better senses came into play, the thought was forming fully, and Obi-Wan was too sleepy to actually care much. -Love you, Qui. -

                As he fought a losing battle and finally beat a hasty retreat, he felt a hand-like touch run through his hair, and knew that Qui-Gon said something once more, but for the life of him Obi-Wan couldn’t tell if what he had heard was truly said or if he had already fallen asleep, dreams taking over. He fell into slumber, and knew with certainty that he would have no more nightmares this night, as he never had when in Qui-Gon’s arms.

 

~Qui-Gon’s pov~

Trying to communicate with Obi-Wan started out feeling like I was attempting communication with a brick wall. In fact, I had been quick to find out that it was like that with everyone. Nevertheless, I stayed. With each new day I found myself aware for, I remained by his side. Sometimes, when Obi-Wan seemed most at peace, it would almost seem as if he could sense me. I think, though, that he just wrote it off as his reminiscing or some stray remnant of my presence in our shared quarters. I watched as he trained Anakin, and found that as time passed I was more able to control my consciousness within the Force. I was remaining cognizant more and more. The more I stayed, the more I saw that worried me. I think most Jedi were run so ragged that they couldn’t even sense the prevalent wrongness that Coruscant was exuding.

Then the thrice cursed war came, and something shifted. I was able to manage some small level of communication with Yoda once, practically screaming as I was at him, trying to help him in his meditation to find the Sith in order to end the war. That had caught the diminutive being’s attention, and with work we had been able to communicate more fully. Every second I was with Yoda, however, was a minute less that I could spend watching over my Obi-Wan, my Padawan, as he fought an increasingly difficult battle, multiple times nearly dying.

                Throughout the war I did everything I could to help him and his clones, but every time I managed to help, I found that it took more and more energy, and I would again find myself spending increasing amounts of time in what amounted to unconsciousness. (Funny, coming from a ghost.)

                Then Order 66 happened, and everything changed. The Jedi Order was destroyed, its masses depleted into what barely even amounted to a single percentage of its previous expanse. And each day the Empire reigned supreme, more lights in the Force would flicker out, signaling the end of another Jedi.

                And Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, despite everything, remained mostly alive, if struggling with guilt and anguish. I was more determined than ever to help him in his solitary escape from the Empire and the Sith.

                So when I found him tonight, half frozen and mid nightmare, it had been by rote that I joined him in his dream, prepared to walk with him through it like I had dozens of other times. What I saw, however, stopped me in my tracks. It seemed as though he was worse off then I believed. His subconscious was not providing the usual set background, and everything was shifting in and out of focus, as if it couldn’t quite settle into one thought.

                Withdrawing in surprise, I examined his home, and discovered that his heater had broken, and the reason for the changing scenery was not just confusion, but trying to signal to him the danger that lay imminent. Without pause, I dove back in, trying to locate him as quickly as possible. When I found him, he was approaching a pyre. My pyre. It was always my pyre.

                “Padawan,” I said, drawing up next to him, and attempting to press my hand against his shoulder. I received no acknowledgment, nothing. Not even a flicker of awareness. “Obi-Wan.” Nothing. Again. “Obi-Wan,” I said, and knew that a pleading and slightly desperate tone was entering my voice. “You have to wake up Padawan.” I didn’t dare leave again, for fear that I would not be able to find him again if I did so, but in the back of my mind I could tell that his physical body was shutting down, fast.

                “Obi-Wan Kenobi!” I yelled, trying to get his attention, and I think it might have reached him, for he paused in his tracks, as if processing, before stumbling along again. He walked right up to the edge of the pyre, leaning close.

                “PADAWAN!”

                I received a slurred voice in response, worrying me further, and insisted that my Padawan needed to wake, but he seemed to be talking to partially deaf ears, as my explanation didn’t cause my apprentice to even bat his eyes. Instead, he leaned over the pyre, as if intent to curl up into the flames. I didn’t like the look of that one bit.

                “Padawan,” demanded in the most Masterly, no-nonsense-now-Padawan-you-listen-to-me voice, “up!”

                To my immense relief, I was forced out of Obi-Wan’s dream as the man woke up, and watched as he realized that his heater was broken and that his hovel was, in fact, an icebox. It didn’t take me long after Obi-Wan tried to reassure that he was fine (dozens of memories in which he had tried to play the “really, Master, I’m fine” card floated to mind) to decide to see if I could actually have any affect on the physical world.

                Thinking warm thoughts, I lay next to Obi-Wan, wrapping him up in my arms just as I had done so many times previously, hoping beyond hope that this would work.

                I was rewarded with Obi-Wan’s gasp, though it hurt to know that it came from a place of old grief and regret, as my apprentice was suddenly able to feel me again. Reassuring the man, I encouraged him to sleep, promising to stay. It was almost laughable to promise such a thing, when I had hardly left his side since death.

                I watched with no little amusement as Obi-Wan fought some internal battle, body versus mind, trying to win out over his determined-to-rest body. I said nothing as I sensed my Obi-Wan’s thoughts, still attempting to stay awake instead of giving into sleep as was wise.

                Running ghostly fingers through mostly ginger hair, remembering that Obi-Wan had liked that (even if he never admitted to it), I sent tendrils of the Force to calm the mind, and as I felt him slipping off into sleep, whispered, “I love you, too.”

 

~Obi-Wan’s pov~

Obi-Wan woke feeling almost…sated. His bed was warm, verging on the point of being too warm. The comfort that he felt convinced him to stay where he was, refusing to even open his eyes.

                He felt gentle amusement from the source of that comfort. “Not a word, you,” he grumbled, eyes remaining blissfully closed.

                _I wouldn’t dare_ , his Master responded wryly.

                Obi-Wan didn’t complain when the Force grip around him tightened a bit, and tried (and failed) to hide his pleased smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is my first published fic, so constructive criticism appreciated! Hells, feedback of any kind appreciated
> 
> Come give me a holler at my mess of a tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/at-this-point-who-even-knows


End file.
